Sebastien's Hunt
by GuyWithTheCatTattoos
Summary: Buck tracks down the last known enemy in the area, with intent on finally eliminating the elusive Russian sniper. But the closer he gets to his prey, the more complicated things get, and the more frustrated he becomes. There will be Buck/Glaz slash, and it's gonna be rough. Warnings inside.
1. Chapter 1

**Warnings: there will be rape, abuse, swearing, blood & gore, etc. eventually.**

 **This will be entirely from Buck's p.o.v.**

 **Characters aren't mine.**

 **Chapter 1**

We were down one friendly. But they only had 1 left. And I was looking at him through my scope.

I'm out in the woods, in some prickly bushes. I'm quiet and still. I've been watching the last survivor of the enemy team for a few minutes now, waiting for the perfect shot. The rest of my teammates are further south of me. I've told them of my whereabouts and situation. I'm gonna end it all right here.

I watch the Spetsnaz man through my scope. He's knelt down by a tree, fiddling with his own sniper rifle. Looks like it's jammed. His hands are covered in blood, but I can't tell if he's injured or not. He keeps looking around and staying silent. He's fidgety. But my crosshairs stay right at his head.

We both hear a slight rustle from the bushes next to him. He pulls his pistol out, quick but soundless, and watches at the bushes. Unexpectedly, a small fawn walked out of them, its legs still a little wobbly and awkward. Looked almost newborn, with bright white spots. It was cautious but taking small, curious steps towards the Russian.

He lowered his pistol. His rifle had been laid on the grass next to his feet. He kept watching the fawn that inched towards him. This was the perfect opportunity.

He reached towards the fawn with his free hand while sliding his pistol back into its holster. The fawn stopped but didn't run. His blood-stained fingers were inches from the fawn's wet, sniffing nose. I slid my finger over my trigger, patiently waiting for the right moment.

The fawn sniffed up at the man's hand as he knelt in front of it. I couldn't help but think that this would be a nice moment for someone to die. Maybe he's at peace in this moment, confronted by nature in such a rare and innocent way. His body is battered, his friends are dead, and he's screwed – but within all of this shit he's in, he's given one last chance at having his mind put at ease.

His dirty fingers delicately stroked the top of the baby deer's nose and between its eyes. I couldn't see his mouth behind his half-mask, but I wondered if he smiled when the deer responded by stumbling closer to him.

He was fully in the moment. He should have been more aware of his situation and surroundings. This was the moment. I pulled my trigger.

I was dumbfounded for a moment. His head didn't explode.

My trigger fucking jammed.

I screamed every curse word I knew in English and French, inside my head. I wasn't too close to him, but I was close enough I was worried about backing out of the bushes. I tried once more to shoot at his head, but it failed again. I don't even remember the last time my gun failed me.

Carefully, I crawled backwards, getting out of the bushes just enough that I could quickly examine my gun. I decided, thinking in haste, I'll go for my silenced pistol. I lie down flat again and peeked through the bushes. I looked and looked. The fawn was gone, and so was my target.

I nearly shouted, I was so angry.

I scouted the area until nightfall. I'm still pissed off. I decided to retreat back to base after they kept bugging me to. But I'm coming back in the morning and putting an end to this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

* * *

It snowed the next day.

Frost and I sat in our base – a small cabin in the middle of the woods – drinking tea. Winter was coming early this year and I'm enjoying it.

"I can't wait to go home," Frost breaks the silence. She sat across from me at the small table, holding her mug of tea with her pink-gloved hands, trying to warm them. We could see each other's breath.

"You don't gotta tell me. I don't want to be here, either." I scroll through my phone, looking through the latest national news. It's great that we've got internet out here, but no fucking heat.

"What would you rather be doing, Sebastien?" She asks, trying to provoke conversation.

"Anything."

I hear her sip her tea before continuing, "I mean, what would you be doing if you weren't here? What's waiting for you at home?"

I don't have to think about it, "I'd be hunting."

She laughs, "You're doing that here, Seb."

"I like to hunt things that don't shoot back," I look up at her, "So what would you be doing?"

"Easy. I'd be playing with my daughter. She loves the snow," Her face glows whenever she talks about her daughter.

"How old is she now?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"5 years now. I feel really old. But she reminds me of being a kid. I can do kid things with her like watch cartoons, fingerpaint…" She laughs.

"You can do those without kids, T." I chuckle.

"Yeah, okay… When are you gonna have kids, Seb?" She watches me with honest joy in her amber eyes.

I shrug, "Gotta find a girl first, I guess." I don't really even think of this stuff. I like my quiet, personal life.

"You gotta open up for that to happen." She says. And she's right.

"I'll open up when I feel like it." That was the end of our conversation before I got my gear together to head outside.

* * *

The snowflakes were large and falling slowly. It was sprinkled over the dead leaves that littered the ground. I enjoyed the scenery. I made it a goal to find that Russian sniper today, or tonight, and finally finish off his squad with his death. Then we'll be one step closer to going home, if we're lucky.

As I explore, further and further out, I start noticing fading footprints. Oddly, there are more than one set. Different treads. I don't know if any of them belong to my guy, but if he's found some friends, then I hope not. Civilians aren't supposed to be up here, but I guess they could have snuck in if they have a death wish.

I had followed the prints quite a ways, through thick, dead brush. Within the thorny brush walls I notice a cave opening. As I walk up to it I realize it's a door… it's an actual door, a small door, out in the middle of the woods. A bunker? I report it to Frost immediately.

Curiosity gets the best of me. I open the door, pistol drawn. I see a set of stairs going straight down, but I can't see much beyond that, even with my flashlight.

Suddenly, I'm grabbed from behind, hearing a male voice say, "You think it's okay to fucking snoop around?" He has a knife to my throat, but I try to fight him. Once I threw him off of me, a 2nd guy had a magnum pointed at my face. They weren't military or police. Vagrants?

The knife-wielding guy stood up and brushed himself off. He put his knife in a wooden sheath on his belt and pulled out his own pistol, making it two guns pointed at my head. I couldn't figure out who they were.

"I'm part of the Joint Task Force 2. I'm not here to hurt you," I calmly state, my own pistol still in hand, but at my side.

The guy with the magnum spoke up, "Yeah? I don't give a fuck who you are. Get rid of your weapons, and I'm not gonna tell you twice." I may have made a fatal mistake. I don't know who they are, but I know that they're insane. I oblige, setting all my visible weapons on the ground.

"Take your coat off," The other man demands, "Don't hide anything from us, we'll check you." I toss my heavy winter coat to the side. Then they demanded the next layer. I'm down to my black long-sleeved under-armor. Next to go were my radio and my cellphone.

"Get in there, motherfucker," they gesture to the door, "Go down the stairs, we'll be right behind you." Looking at two potentially loaded barrels pointed at me, I don't argue. I have to squeeze a little bit through the door, and the steep stairs are awkward to go down, but I make it, guns pointed at my back the entire time. Once inside, it's large enough to stand and move around in comfortably. I hear the door shut at the top of the stairs.

I look around, confident now that this is an old WWII bunker. But now it has working electricity. There are thin, dirty mattresses off to the side of the room, with a radio nearby playing metal music. It smells like cigarettes, beer, piss, and body odor. There's debris and garbage scattered around.

They lead me through concrete hallways, most are dimly lit at best. We entered a room filled with large, heavy-duty cages. They look like they are just big enough for large-breed dogs, but with thick, heavy bars. They're a little bit rusty. The room smells awful. There are dark stains inside the cages. Blood. I feel my stomach turn as my imagination wanders. I'm going into one of these cages.

One of them walked ahead of me and opened one of the cages. He looked at me, seriously, "Get in." I'm frozen in my tracks.

"I'm not fucking asking you. Get in. You want to die?" He shouts at me.

I thought of arguing, defending myself. I tell myself to stay calm. Keep my mind clear. Just bear it until I can find a solution. They haven't patted me down like they had threatened, so my hidden hunter's knife makes me feel slightly better. At least, that's what I try to convince myself of as I get on my hands and knees to crawl into the cramped cage. There were multiple locks on the cage, and they were all locked once I was in.

They had left me in the room alone. I've been fiddling with the locks since they left, to no avail. It must have been several hours now. I was already feeling the soreness of being stuffed in this cage. I couldn't stand up, or even get on my knees. My legs couldn't stretch out. It wasn't made for a human.

Looking around, I see two other cages the same size as mine. There's a sink in one corner, near the doorway. There's a drain in the middle of the room. What the fuck do these guys do here? As I've sat here contemplating my escape, I've heard several voices of men echo through the hallways. There must be at least 5 guys staying down here. I can hear them laughing and shouting. Are they all in on this?

Thank God I gave Frost the location. Not much longer and she and the rest of our team will be here. I just gotta hold out.

* * *

I don't know how long I had slept, but I was awoken by men shouting and cursing… next to me, but not at me. I looked over at the cage next to mine, completely stunned. It was the Spetsnaz sniper I had been searching for. The four men in the room were sticking knives in through his cage bars from all sides, shouting insults at him and kicking his cage. When they managed to stab him through the bars he yelped and held his wounds as best he could. He was trying to curl up and avoid the blades, which just amused the men.

One of them stopped and pointed his knife at me, while shouting at him, "You better learn to behave like your friend over here, you piece of shit," He kicked the heavy cage the Russian was in, jarring it only slightly, "You put up a fight, you're gonna get fucking hurt." The man's expression was intense. They all reeked of alcohol.

The Russian didn't look at me until the men left the room, leaving a thick silence in the air and the stench of booze and cigarettes. He looked confused and frightened. The only shirt he had on was a tight black t-shirt. His mask and hat were also gone, and I could see he had a busted lip, a bloody nose, and some dried blood at his hairline, having come out from his messy brown hair from another time. His eyes were almost glowing a cold, pale blue, but one of them was damaged by a red scratch across the iris.

I watched him look over his stab wounds. They were bleeding, but not life-threatening. His arms and fingerless-gloved hands were covered in his blood, but he continued wiping blood from his nose every now and then until it stopped. Now parts of his face were smeared with drying blood. We hadn't said a word to each other until now.

"Hey. Do you know who these guys are?" I whispered to him. I tried, in vain, to adjust to a more comfortable position.

He looked at me briefly, licking blood from the split in his lower lip, and feeling around the locks of his cage.

"No." He looked at the locks then pulled his hands back and slumped back in defeat. He hugged himself and looked around the room.

We were quiet for a good while. It had been quiet in the halls as well. All I could hear was the sink dripping occasionally and the man breathing beside me. As the minutes passed, I hoped more and more for Frost and the others to get here and find me. I grew more frustrated as the time went by. It was ultimately my own mistake. But all I had wanted to do was go out and dispatch the man that's now caged up next to me. He's an arm's-length away from me now, but I can't do anything about it.

 **Thanks for reading. I realize this story may be a little more slow-moving than my others, but this is one I've had in my head for a while and just want to get it out there.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

* * *

I don't know the time, but I've been in this cage overnight. Is Frost coming? I gave her the direct coordinates; I know she and the others can find it pretty easily… Where are they?

The Russian caged next to me is also awake. Neither of us had been speaking to each other. I still felt angry that he was alive. I'm angry that my gun jammed the moment I pulled the trigger with his head in my sights. We were so close to finishing off his squad; he was the last survivor. There was even a possibility we could be dismissed and flown back home.

We haven't seen or heard from the vagrants who had confined us, not since they tormented my enemy in the cage next to me several hours ago. I noticed his bleeding had stopped, but he would gently rub around his wounds, trying to massage the pain away. But I think both of us are suffering much more from being cramped so tightly in these dog-cages, unable to find any comfortable position. It's already agonizing to feel the bars against my back.

I tried to concentrate on anything but the pain. I started focusing on how cold the room felt. Suddenly, I hear the Russian speak up beside me, "How you get here?" His voice was smooth and quiet, and his accent was heavy. I'm used to hearing Russian's shouting and speaking so guttural and loud. I appreciate that he doesn't sound like the others.

I look over at him. He's rubbing up and down his arms, trying to warm up. He's almost skinny, but he's very toned. He's looking into my eyes. He had reddened bags under his eyes, which made his pale blue eyes pop.

"I was tracking you," I answer after a moment. My eyes don't break from his. I'm remembering times when women complimented my eyes. They told me the color was like silver. That they are bright and fierce. But I bet they don't compare to his. I find myself strangely in awe when I look at them. But then I realize, I've never cared about someone's eye color before. I'm not sure why his are so fascinating to me.

I look away and scratch my nose, following my answer with, "What about you?"

"I search for you, and the friends." His accent really comes out on his "r"s.

"We both failed, then." I respond, trying to hide the frustration in my voice.

"No… I succeed in finding,"

I look back at him, "Being trapped with me doesn't count." Maybe he's misunderstanding me; his English is poor.

He looked down, "I killed friend of yours, before I am caught." He showed no emotion.

"…who?" I dared to ask. My heart was already heavy. All of my teammates were married and either had kids, or were planning to. I couldn't fathom losing any of them and thinking of their kids losing a parent.

"FBI… woman…" He quietly answered. His eyes met mine again.

"Ash…" My breath is caught.

I adjusted, feeling rage building inside me as I stared at him, "Are you fucking with me?"

He continued watching me with no hint of emotion, "I am serious. She put up fight, I killed her. How you and friends killed my comrades, but maybe I am nicer. I killed her swiftly." Now we were both angrily staring into each other's eyes. I hoped somehow he was lying, but I knew he wasn't.

I barked out my response, "She had a family! She had two little kids at home! Toddlers! Do you understand me?"

He shouted back, "You believe we have no family to wait for us at home?! Why I should feeling bad for you or the friends?"

I knew he was right. We're not supposed to feel bad for the enemy. You don't consider their feelings or their personal life. I sure don't. And I know they don't, either. But now I'm just more pissed off. I want him dead more than before.

"Fuck," I mutter and kick at my cage door. She was a good mother…

My thoughts were interrupted by 2 men entering the room, the same men that brought me here. One of them shouted, "What the fuck is going on?" Neither of us answered.

They walked up to our cages and kicked at the doors. The man continued, "Huh? You fuckers want to answer me? Need to let off some steam? I'll let you out, you two can go at it!"

"Yeah," the other man adds, "We could do that. Watch them fight to the death. You two are enemies, right? How badly do you two want to fuck the other guy over, huh?"

"Pretty fucking bad, I bet," the other guy says. They both chuckle. One of them crouched down in front of me and dragged a knife across the bars, "How many of his friends have you killed? Hm?" He smiled and moved over to the other cage, pointing his knife at the Russian, "What about you? What's your name?"

He receives a glare, and a quiet answer, "…Glaz."

"'Glaz'? Okay, Glaz, do you want to kill him?" He looks over at me, "What's your name?" I watch him carefully. He waits for me to answer.

"Buck." He grins.

"'Buck', like a deer, huh? I hope that's not your real name." The men laugh.

"How about we let you guys out and you can take your aggression out on each other?" he proposes, excitedly. I'm thinking that, as soon as they let me out, I'm going to fight them. I still have a knife on me, and I'm ready to use it, regardless of the fact the two are armed.

The 2nd guy, just as excited, speaks up, "I'm gonna get the other guys. They gotta see this!" He exits the room. Fuck. As much as I'm itching to fight my way out of here, the odds are much more against me if they're bringing more guys in here. Still, I hope they let us out. I'm so damn sick of this cage and feeling the soreness from it. And, hell, I'm more than happy to kick the Russian's ass if that's what they want. I'm going to kill him.

* * *

Almost an hour later, we were standing facing each other, about 6 feet apart, surrounded by 12 men. They were holding beer and liquor, and I could see that at least half of them were armed with a gun. My adrenaline boiled up as I looked around. They were all loud and hyped up. I can't help but feel excited to take down the Russian… Glaz.

I looked at him. He was glaring at me, looking just as ready to fight as I was. He was fit, and I know the Spetsnaz are well-known for Sambo, their hand-to-hand combat training. He was just slightly smaller than me in height. My fists tightened.

"Okay, okay, shut up!" The man who let us out of the cage shouted, "Okay, I'm going to count down to 1. On "go", you two fight. If you don't, we're going to just kill you both. Have at it, boys!" The men cheered and egged us on as he counted.

"3…2…1… GO!"

Immediately, we jumped into action. I got him to the floor where we started wrestling aggressively; our lives literally depending on it. We were both determined to hurt the other, but we were both so equally matched that we hadn't landed any good hits. The men surrounding us continued shouting, becoming more frustrated and demanding to see one of us get pummeled by the other.

I decided this was where I was going to end this. I grappled with him a little while longer before I found an opportunity to pull out my knife and jab it at him. He noticed quick enough to avoid the first one, but soon after, I slashed him across the throat. I could feel that it hadn't gotten him deep enough to be fatal. It was bleeding heavily but I hadn't hit anything that would bring him down. So he continued fighting for his life and somehow managed to disarm me before flipping me onto the ground, following behind me with his weight on top of me. The men were going crazy around us, getting close and making bets on who was going to win. I refused to let him keep me down. With another angry surge of energy, I managed to wrestle him off me and punched him in the gut. He dropped to his knees, grabbing his stomach and trying to catch his breath.

Before I swung a kick at him, I hear an explosive, followed by a cloud of thick smoke enveloping everything in the room. I know what's going on. I couldn't see him, but I grabbed Glaz and headed to the door, where I, too, was pulled along towards the exit. Behind me I hear gunfire, but soon enough we're out of the bunker, where I see it was Thermite that had guided me out. We continued our hasty retreat back to base, with the bloody Russian weakly dragged along.

* * *

We made it back to base, safely. It was just Thermite, Frost and me now. I was bundled up in a heavy winter jacket. Glaz was tied to a thick wooden pillar in the middle of the room, sitting against it on the floor and watching us as we tried to wind down from what just happened. I explained to them everything that happened. Thermite and Frost tell me it was on the news that there were reports of people going missing in the area in the past few years. One of the missing persons escaped and told the police the men were threatening to kill and eat him. I don't know if there's truth to it, but now it doesn't matter. We report it to local authorities and I push the events out of my thoughts. I am much more concerned about the beaten Spetsnaz in the room now.

As we sat on the table, now drinking freshly-brewed coffee, we talk about Ash and what happened to her. They confirmed she had left to find me on her own accord and had stopped responding to her radio. I told them what Glaz had told me he had supposedly done. He admitted to murdering… killing her. Now that I think about it, he probably told me to get me riled up. But unfortunately, I believe what he said. And since Ash is missing, it just adds up. My chest feels tight. We make plans to search for her immediately.

Glaz refuses to speak to us when we ask about Ash's whereabouts. Though he looks really worn out. I'm not sure if he's coherent enough to help.

Thermite looks sternly at me, "You're worn down a little bit. One of us has to stay and babysit…"

"No," I snap at him, "I'm going out there and looking for Ash with you."

Frost is looking into her coffee mug, in thought, "Seb," she looks up at me, sympathetically, "Let Jordan and I take a look. Stay and relax—"

"You know damn well I'm gonna go crazy sitting here and doing nothing," I interrupt.

Thermite interjects, "It's not 'nothing'. You watch him. We're gonna find Ash, don't worry," He stood up and started to get his gear together. Frost slowly followed suit, giving me a shrug and mouthing 'sorry' to me.

"I'm not gonna guarantee he's gonna be alive when you come back," I growled at Thermite.

"You better not, cuz I want to give him a piece of my mind, too. Radio us if he decides to cooperate and help us locate Ash. We'll be back." he replies before heading out the door with Frost.

I'm so pissed, but I can't argue with Thermite. I feel sore and cramped up from being in that damn cage. If those bastards end up finding this place before we move base, they're not gonna take me down easy. I'm so sick of everything going wrong. I need something to go right.

I glance over at Glaz. His head his hanging down as if asleep, but I'm sure he wasn't. His split, swollen lip had busted again during our fight, so it was still glistening with fresh blood. All over his throat, and all down his chest and hands, was the blood from his slit throat. It wasn't as bad as it looked, though it continued to bleed down his chest, keeping his tight, black t-shirt wet.

After rummaging through our medical supplies, I went up to him and knelt down, setting the supplies on the floor at my feet. He looked up at me, and again, his eyes leave me in awe. Everything about him is so dark, he's covered in blood, but his eyes are such a pure and cold pale blue…

I shake my head and focus on his neck, "Let me see," My hand went up to his neck as he lifted his chin up. I saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard. It looks like I cut him deeper than I had thought. When he lifted his head it bled more.

I sprayed an antibacterial onto a rag, wetting it really good before I put it up to his neck to clean away the crusted, dried blood around the wound. He closed his eyes. He almost looked like a cat enjoying a chin scratch. He looked relaxed but his breathing had sped up a little. He licked his lip and adjusted a little bit.

I had to scrub a little bit harder to remove some thicker blood stains. He winced but endured it for a minute. He shifted, seeming antsy, before lowering his head and saying, "Not touch me," in a firm voice. I sprayed a cleaner part of the towel as I replied, "I'm probably gonna need to stitch it."

He shook his head, not looking at me. His face seemed rosy.

"I'm not doing this for you," I bitterly say to him before putting my hand on his head and forcing him to tilt his chin back up.

His eyes remained closed, tight. He swallowed hard again and pulled his knees up from sitting Indian-style. What is he getting all antsy for?

"You need to use the bathroom?" I take a guess. We had let him use the bathroom before we tied him up, and that wasn't long ago, "If you do, hold it." I didn't feel like escorting him to the bathroom again right now.

After getting no response, and still holding his head back a little more forcefully that I needed to, I went back to wiping at the blood seeping from his slit throat. I dabbed at it, carefully watching it bleed less after a while, but it didn't stop completely. Glaz freed his head from my grip and shifted around again, "Stop touch me there!"

"Damn it…" I growl, "I know it hurts but you went through worse without complaining," I grip his dirty, messy brown hair and hold his head firmly against the pillar his hands are tied to behind him. I'm not gentle about it. He struggles. He tries to kick me but I let go of his head and pull his legs down so I can kneel on them to keep him from doing so. Then I realize why he's acting strange. He's got a tent in his pants. He was turned on, somehow. His struggling has stopped. His eyes are closed and his face is red. I feel my face heat up, too.

I released his legs and let him pull his knees back up towards him. He knows I saw. I don't say anything about it. I don't really know how to respond to it. I'm trying to figure out what caused it. Was it something I had done? The thought plagued me.

I look down at the supplies under me, unable to clear my head. It feels insanely awkward between us now.

"I'm gonna have to stitch it…" I say quietly, avoiding looking at him directly in the face. He gives a small nod, keeping his eyes shut.

* * *

After I finished stitching and bandaging up Glaz's throat, I sat on one of the comfy padded chairs in the corner and waited for Thermite and Frost. There wasn't a chance in Hell I'd be able to sleep without some closure regarding Ash.

As if on cue, I hear Glaz's gentle but dark voice, "I not know where she is..."

I look at him from my chair. I ended up sitting on the floor in front of him, wrapping my arms around my knees and looking at him.

"Did you lie to me then?" I wait for him to return eye contact. He shakes his head.

"Then how do you not know where she is?" My anger rose just talking about her, knowing she's dead, and knowing it's the guy in front of me.

"Not know how to getting there from here," He replies. I sigh, irritated. I hear interference on my radio before hearing Thermite's voice, "Buck, copy?"

"Buck, copy."

"We found her, Seb. And she's alive," he sounds utterly surprised. I know I am. I stare wide-eyed at Glaz as I take in the shocking information, "She is?"

"Yeah, but she's in bad shape. Knife to the chest, must have just barely missed her heart. She's got hypothermia, too. We got a medevac coming to take her to the nearest hospital. Hoping for the best…"

Glaz is staring at me, looking shocked as well as he listens in on our radio conversation.

Thermite continued, "We're waiting for the helicopter. They're about 30 minutes out. We'll see you in a while. How are things on your end?"

I lock eyes with Glaz. I pause for a moment before I answer, "I'd rather be out there with you guys."

"Is he still alive?" Thermite jokes. Or maybe he's serious. I'm not sure.

"Yeah… he's alive," I reply, not looking away from our captive.

"See you soon, Buck!"

I put my radio away. I run my fingers through my hair and close my eyes before I look back at Glaz, "You didn't kill her." I wasn't sure how to feel.

He's visibly upset, but says nothing.

"You better be glad you didn't," I say to him seriously.

"She should be dead," he growls in response, "I stab her heart, she become lifeless in one second."

"Luckily you missed. You better hope she survives after all of this!"

"I hope she dies." He looked at me coldly, and completely serious. I reacted by grabbing his bandaged throat and gripping it while I held him hard against the wooden pillar. He made a pained noise but I didn't ease up. I blocked his attempted kicks.

I pushed my fingers deep up into his neck, watching his face turn color and hearing him choke for air. Before he could pass out, I pulled away and stood over him, watching him desperately catch his breath, gasping in air and coughing. My hand was damp from blood that soaked through his bandages.

Once he had enough air to speak, he looked up at me and said, "You killed my comrades! My friends! I have no more left!"

I listened and watched him, unsympathetic.

"You understand to lose friends. You understand why I wish you all die."

I did understand.

I find myself asking, "What's waiting for you at home?"

"Nothing. What waits for you?"

I'm lost in his eyes again. What a beautiful contrast to all the blood I've seen.

"Nothing waits for me, either." There's a silence as we look at each other. I add, "These guys are all I have. So I'll be damned if I'm gonna let you take them from me."

Nothing else was said after that. I sat back in the comfortable chair with refilled coffee mug and waited for Thermite and Frost, feeling a little more at ease now.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading. I will update a new chapter soon.**


	4. Chapter 4

**This chapter has some sexual content, and it's non-con. Nothing crazy though, yet.**

 **I love reviews from my readers. I appreciate you.**

 **Enjoy.**

 **Chapter 4:**

* * *

I slept in the next morning. I didn't wake up until 11:30.

I walked out of my room and looked down at the captive Russian. His hands were still tied behind the thick wooden pillar in the middle of our cabin. He was sat on the floor with his head hanging down, his brown bangs almost covering his eyes. I watched his chest rise and fall slowly. He was fast asleep. I'm not surprised. He went through a lot of beatings yesterday, including Thermite taking out some of his anger on him when he and Frost returned from their search. The bandage around his throat was almost completely soaked red, and he smelled. He smelled like blood, sweat, and pine.

I walked around him and joined Thermite and Frost at the small kitchen table, sitting down carefully, as I was still sore.

"So, when are we gonna move?" I ask as I drink from my fresh brewed coffee.

"I talked to them today. We may not have to move," Thermite answered. I looked into his blue eyes. They're much darker than Glaz's.

"What do you mean? Those crazy assholes aren't too far away from us," I remind him. He replies, "They're not too close, either. Anyway, I told the superiors about our p.o.w. here. They're extremely interested in 'talking' to him. They said they're considering this to be a successful operation once they get him into their hands, which means we're probably gonna go home soon." He smiled at me. I looked at him in awe, "No shit?" I chuckled a bit, in disbelief. This is what I was hoping for. My cabin—my own personal cabin at home in Canada—was waiting for me. The way I left it and love it. With my comfortable bed, my hunting supplies, and my solitude. Frost will go home to her little girl, which makes me even happier to think about. Thermite will be home with his wife and daughter. They really had much more to lose than I did… So I am incredibly thankful they are safe and able to return to their family.

Frost chimes in, "They told us to continue our duties per usual for now, but I hope they contact us soon." She's smiling, looking but anxious.

"Also," Thermite looks at me, "Heard this morning that Ash made it to the hospital alright. She's stable. They think she's got a good chance of recovery." Good news and better news. This is the kind of day I needed. I can't help but smile and feel a little giddy. Most of all, I'm thankful. For everything.

* * *

Frost and I went out to hunt that afternoon. We stalked around the snowy dead woods for our prey. I wanted a deer. I wanted a great meal to celebrate today.

"I hope he doesn't die," Frost randomly says. "Who? The sniper?" I ask. I look off to the distance, thinking I spotted something moving.

"Yeah. When Thermite was on the phone with our superiors they sounded excited to get him alive," She looked off in the trees off to my side.

"Yeah, that's because they can extract information out of him," I respond. She sighs, "I know that, Buck. I'm saying if he were to die, I don't know if we'd have the same chances of going home."

"He's not gonna die," I was getting a little annoyed, "I don't want to talk about him," I pointed off to the trees on my right, "There. I saw a doe over there!"

She sighed again, but got back in the game once she saw the group of doe. We silently made our way closer to them, perfectly quiet. The doe never saw us. I signaled her to stop and kneel beside me as I knelt down. We were behind a fallen tree, hidden well behind some bushes that were common around here. I pulled up my rifle and laid it across the fallen tree, tucking the butt of my gun into my shoulder and peeking through the sights. All I could hear was occasional sticks breaking from the doe shuffling around in the distance. It echoed through the trees.

I picked my target. Amongst the doe was a fawn. I don't know if it's the same one I saw before, a few days ago when I had tried to shoot Glaz. But seeing it there made me think of him. His bloody fingers had stroked the fawn's soft nose, in a rare, but beautiful opportunity.

There was a loud bang, then the doe and fawn scattered. We quickly went to retrieve the fallen doe left behind by her herd. She was hit in the heart; an instant death. Frost and I both made quick work of butchering it. It was so fresh that when we cut open her belly, steam rose out of it. We put as much good meat into our plastic bags, inside our backbacks, and carried back plenty of venison for dinner tonight.

* * *

Later that night, we sat around the kitchen table, eating venison stew that I had made, including the organs, and venison steak that Frost cooked up. It never ceased to amaze me how much good food can improve my mood.

We chatted until we all finished eating. I offered to do dishes, and we gave each other a goodnight. As I was drying my hands after the dishes, I turned to see Glaz looking at me from the pillar. Even from afar, his eyes were stunning.

I put the towel on the counter then headed over to him. He kept his eyes on me as I sat down in front of him. I felt smug.

"Why are you looking at me?" I ask.

"Am thirsty." He replies. The bags under his eyes were still red. I looked down at the bloody bandage around his neck, then back into his eyes, "What do you want me to do about it?"

"Give water," he says, sounding a little demanding. I chuckle, "Not if you talk to me like that. You're not in charge, here." I reach for his neck, intent on getting ready to change his bandages. He jerks away from my touch.

"I'm changing them, hold still," I command him.

"Not touch me. Give water, and food." He's glaring at me.

"You've been a real pain in my ass. I'm not giving you shit. Especially when you talk to me like that," I glared back at him before getting up to get some new medical supplies. He was still looking at me, even when I sat back down in front of him.

My hands reached back up to his throat, one hand with a small pair of scissors to cut through the bandage. Glaz fidgeted, clearly not wanting me to touch him. He growled, "Water, first,"

I was getting annoyed. He's good at doing that to me. I put my hand on his throat, not hard, but I kept it there even when he tried to move away. He couldn't move far being tied down. The thought made my adrenaline flare up, and gave me goosebumps.

"Listen, you little shit," I spoke low but firm, "I'm gonna jam these scissors in your throat if you try to ask me for anything again." I was serious. He must have been able to tell, because he let me go on to cut the bandage off, albeit unhappily.

When I pulled the last part of the bandage off, it hurt him, as the dried blood had essentially glued the gauze to his wound. Once I removed it, I was a little surprised, again, at how deep the slash really was. It was gaping open as I had his chin tilted up. It started to bleed again, as well, but not as much as yesterday. Whenever I heard him swallow, I could tell his throat was very dry.

I cleaned the wound out again, and he was shifting around awkwardly the entire time, just like before. I tried to ignore it. I applied some antibacterial gel in and around his wound, and he made an odd sigh and shivered. His face was red and he looked annoyed now, but didn't look at me. He was biting his lip.

I was curious to see if he was aroused again, but I was afraid he'd see me take a look. I also couldn't believe that the thought of looking at his crotch even crossed my mind. I blame it on the fact I've been alone for too long.

But I looked, and I saw the bulge in his pants again. He was really horny. I couldn't figure it out before, but it was obvious to me now that it was because he enjoyed me touching his throat. I don't know if it was just his thing, or if it was the relief of his wound being tended to. Either way, I was causing this response, and it made me feel uncomfortable. It made me blush, especially when I saw his reddened cheeks paired with his ice-blue eyes.

Now I was taking my time. I was applying more gel to his wound, continuing to spread it around with my fingers. He never told me to stop, but he kept trying to hide his boner with his legs up to his chest. My mouth opened before I could even think, "Look at me," I demanded. I shocked myself with that command. I got a chill when he obeyed and looked at me. Why am I so obsessed with his eyes? I don't know, but I am, badly.

While he's looking at me, I continue massaging the gel in. He looks angry with me and his breathing has sped up since I started cleaning him up. My eyes bore into his. I felt thrilled, that I was controlling this. I'm lost in the moment. At some point, my other hand was between his knees, which he was holding tightly together so my hand couldn't pass through.

"Stop," he said, nervously, looking down at my trespassing hand.

"Look at me," I command again, more sternly. My hand covered over top of his wound, slowly, until it was softly gripping his throat under his chin and jaw. I forced him to keep his head up and facing me. He looked at me with a look of fear and irritation. And he was very physically exhausted.

I tried to gently pry my hand between his legs, but he fought it. I was getting impatient. I wasn't in reality anymore.

"Open," was all I said. He stared at me, anxious, and kept his legs closed.

"Open your fucking legs," I threaten. I'm scaring myself. I don't know why I'm doing this, but I want it to happen, and that's overriding everything else. When he slowly opens up his knees, I look down at his bulge. My own dick twitches violently. I don't even question it. I just feel want.

I slid my hand down to his bulge, feeling the warmth directly underneath. I looked back up into his eyes and gave it a squeeze. He opened his mouth and sighed. I look at his neck. That's the sensitive spot that started this. I can see him trying to figure out what I'm gonna do. I got on my knees, removing my hand from his throat so I can pin his head against the pillar, his head turned to the side. I grip his hair firmly so he can't really move his head. My other hand never left his dick, and in fact, gave it another, firmer squeeze. After he made another breathy sound, I leaned in to his throat and gave a curious lick to one end of the slit in his throat. I felt him squirm under me just a little, but he kept his mouth shut. My dick was growing quick, throbbing and tightening against my pants.

I'm the one making him horny, and he hates it. I groan under my breath and began essentially making out with his throat, licking over his wound, up and down, across, back and forth. It elicits from him small hisses and sounds of pain. It also makes him jerk his head in reaction, making him pull his own hair under my fingers. But I focus mainly on pleasuring him, giving kisses and little licks over his wound. It's still bleeding, and the gel tastes awful, but I'm enjoying this intensely. At this point he's full on struggling under my hand massaging his dick through his pants.

All sorts of ideas run through my adrenaline-fueled mind: jerking him off and making him beg for it, making him suck my dick… but I'd be too afraid that he'd do something stupid like bite it. He moans as I'm lost in thought, and it turns me on that I can tell he's trying damned hard to stay quiet.

"Stop!" He spits in a hushed voice. I shush him and growl into his neck before continuing my kisses and tastes. The feel of his hard dick under my hand and groping fingers is killing me. I want to see it. But I know I can't dare to undress him here in the cabin. Thermite or Frost could see. Fuck, they could catch me right now. I sigh, heavily, into his neck before pulling away and turn his head to me with both of my hands. I look back and forth between his eyes and lips. I take a lick at his busted lip before I bite it, purposely making it break open again and bleed. It made he made a stifled yelp sound. His eyes are watery, and when he closes his eyes tight, tears leak down his face. I feel a small pang of guilt, but ignore it.

"Kiss me," I say to him, lips already brushing against each other.

"No…" he quietly refuses. He tries to turn his head away, but I'm holding it in place. I need him to kiss me before I cease my actions. I can't risk getting caught by my teammates.

I kiss gently at his lips before I demand again, "Kiss me," One hand grips under his jaw as I plant another kiss on his lips. I prod at his lips with my hot, wet tongue, but he won't open. I'm frustrated he's not cooperating anymore. I want to hit him, but I don't want to make any noise. "Fuck, fuck…" I whisper lividly into his ear as I think of what to do next.

I think of a different tactic, whispering in his ear again, "I'll give you water if you behave…" Once I plant that into his head, I go for another kiss. He opens his mouth for my tongue, and I eagerly explore his mouth. I push my lips hard against his. I can hear and feel him whimpering in his throat as I passionately make out with him. He's only shyly licking at my tongue, motivated only by the promise of water.

I pull away, breathless, and completely hard now. I want more, so much more than this. When I completely take my hands off of him and sit back down on my feet, I'm hit by reality. I'm still wildly turned on, but I'm utterly confused and concerned about what I've just done. I can't take any of it back. I've never sexually assaulted anyone… I've never acted, nor felt, so animalistic. I feel fucking awful. I want to just leave the room, but I remember I still have to bandage him back up.

I'm in shock as my boner dies down. I can't look him in the eye. He's still breathing a little quickly, but otherwise he's soundless. I can see his tears have left bright streaks through the patches of old dried blood and dirt on his face. He takes a lick at his bleeding, swollen lip off and on and sniffles some.

Without saying another word for the rest of the night, I finished dressing his throat, and I gave him a glass of water. As I helped him drink it, I couldn't help but admire his face. I liked that he was drinking only with my help. That he had to listen to me to get water. When I touched his throat, and kissed it, and licked it, and nibbled it… he got turned on, despite himself. I did all this.

I went to bed, unable to keep him out of my mind. I went over the experience over and over, feeling guilty, scared, anxious, and super fucking horny. I was trying to make sense of my feelings and behaviors, but all it came down to was that I enjoyed what I was doing, so I did it. The feeling of 'want' took over everything, and my body took over from there. I can't let it happen again.

But, I fell asleep after cumming to the fantasies of what I wanted to do with him. I came harder than I ever remember. They're just fantasies, they're harmless…

* * *

 **Next chapter coming soon…**


	5. Chapter 5

**Buck is going through a lot of emotions and stress. As you may be able to tell, he's going a little Jekyll and Hyde…**

 **Let's continue. Enjoy.**

 **Chapter 5:**

* * *

I was in the shower the next morning, standing under the stream of warm water, wishing it could wash my mind clear. It didn't help in the slightest.

Although I woke up a little more calmed down, my head was still uncomfortably busy with all sorts of thoughts. My gut knotted up with disgust when I replayed last night's experience in my head. I had my hands against the shower wall, facing the shower head, letting it stream over my head and face.

My thoughts were plagued with a variety of things I continued beating myself up over. First, I sexually attacked him. Yes, I hate him, and I don't care how much pain he's in, or if he lives or dies. I have no sympathy for him at all and want him out of here a.s.a.p. But I had no right to touch him like I did. I took advantage of him for my own pleasure, and that's absolutely disgusting.

Then it leads into the confusion of why I felt so eager to touch him. I wanted to do everything to him. Thinking about it now, the thought of sexually engaging with another man makes me feel sick. I shake my head. But I felt it, all the same; even falling asleep fantasizing about him. I had been with several women throughout my life, but my experiences with sex have always been less than satisfying. My dick was thick, which they would always compliment, but when it came down to fucking they would always stop me from continuing because it hurt so badly. Every time ended up with them blowing me to finish me off, or me jacking off. I still enjoyed myself, but I felt like I never truly got to experience the joy of sex. And my last encounter was… Hell, years ago. I've become so reclusive. I barely socialized with the few of my friends, let alone bothered trying to pursue anything romantic. But never have I considered the closeness of another man in the same way I have with women. Never would I have imagined it would be the man I most definitely hate the most, whose team – or even himself – killed one of my teammates, and nearly killed a second.

The biggest thing that nagged me, and irritated me, is my lack of self-control. I may not have been able to explain or justify my feelings in the heat of the moment, but all the while, I knew better than to give into them. I was much stronger than that. I took pride in my willpower. But, for once, it failed me. I told myself, over and over, not to let it happen again. I was growing my confidence back a little bit, reassuring myself it was a bizarre slip-up, and there's no possibility of it happening again.

After exhausting my brain trying to make any kind of sense of everything that happened, I turned the hot water off and let the cold water run over my head and face. I shuddered but firmly stood under the stream, letting it shock my senses for a moment. After I shut the water off and wrapped a towel around waist, I stood in front of the sink mirror and groomed myself. I trimmed my beard short, and my hair even shorter, with scissors. My hair was a little messy and choppy; I had never been good at cutting my own hair, but I never cared, either. I felt a little refreshed now, and decided to go and start my day.

O

O

O

Thermite and I were standing outside, side by side, chatting casually. The weather had warmed up considerably, melting most of the snow, revealing the bright red and yellow leaves of autumn that had been hidden, and are now glistening wet. The sky is blue, and I hear small birds in the trees. I can feel the warmth of the sun, but the air is still cool. It feels relaxing, and my mind is at peace out here.

"So, they finally had Jack's funeral," Thermite said, looking at his phone, "Took 'em damn long enough," he finished.

Pulse… he was the one we lost a little while ago, before the day I saw Glaz and the fawn. Damn, they delayed is funeral for a long time, "What took so long?" I ask, curious and annoyed. Mostly I was annoyed that I couldn't attend it.

Thermite shrugs, "Problems with the family, I'd guess," he's scrolling through pictures of his own family, his wife and daughter, on his phone, "Pulse and his wife didn't much like her family, and they didn't much like him. I imagine there was some drama with 'em. My wife's family makes me wanna noose myself sometimes, but I hope to god they don't make my funeral a pain in the ass for her." He chuckles.

I remembered suddenly, "His wife… is she pregnant?" Thermite looks at me, a little weirded out by the question. His short brown hair, dark-blue eyes, and his worn and stubbly face were brightened under the sun. I quickly added, "He told me they were trying before he was recruited to us." He looked down, putting his phone away, looking a solemn and thoughtful, "If she is, then… damn." He shook his head, sadly.

His hands were in his pants pockets, mine in my coat pockets. We both were admiring the scenery, even though our faces were red from the cold air.

"Are we getting rid of this Russian any time soon?" I ask him, looking over to him.

Thermite chuckled. He's probably amused at how annoyed I am, having to see the Spetsnaz every waking morning.

"I haven't heard anything else. Sorry, Seb."

"You'd think they'd want to question him as soon as possible," I said, bitterly.

"You'd think so, but you also know as well as I do, that nothing in our lives ever goes as smooth as we hope for," he smiled. He's always been a realist, but also seems to make the best of it.

He continued, looking at me with a grin, "Can't say I've ever had the misfortune of being kidnapped by crazy homeless men, and caged in a war bunker next to my sworn enemy, though." He patted me on the arm, and I had to let out a good laugh.

"You know what's pissing me off the most, though?" I begin.

"What's that?"

I continue, "My rifle is gone," I quickly correct myself, "MY rifle is gone."

Thermite gestured to the cabin, "The ones we got ain't good enough for you, canuck?" He jokes. He knows how important my rifle is to me, but he's always open for giving people a hard time, all in fun.

"Nope. Only my gun is good enough for me," I say back, sounding sarcastic, but being completely honest.

Frost steps out of the front door next to us, standing beside me, rubbing her cold, gloved hands together. We both say our hellos to her.

"I had to get some fresh air," she states, putting her hands in her coat pockets and tucking her head down a little bit into her fur-lined coat hood. I could agree, the cabin was getting a little stuffy.

"He needs a bath," says Thermite. He looks at me, grinning. I glare at him. I know what he's implying, and I hate it, regardless if he's just joking with me or not.

"Frost can do it," I spit out. Frost looks at me, at attention, "Do what? I'm not giving him a bath. Ugh," she shudders.

Jordan looks at her, "You sure? Don't like him sittin' there in blood, getting greasy and smelly? Not into bad boys, Frost?" She shakes her head, firmly, "Not into any of that, and not into giving baths to grown men." I chuckle, feeling for her.

"He really needs to be dealt with, though," Thermite continues, crossing his arms. He waits for a response from either of us.

"Anyone?" he asks.

"You haven't volunteered, yourself," I dare saying to him. I was going to fight this if he bothered me about doing it.

"Alright, you both can take care of it," he said, matter-of-factly. Clearly, I shouldn't have been so catty. Before I can argue, he says, "Sebastien – and Frost – I know you two are grown-up enough not to argue with me like teenagers. I've got my own to put up with at home. I don't gotta hear it out here," he waves us to the front door, "Go get him washed up. You don't gotta make a big deal of it."

Frost nods, "Yes, sir." She hesitated to go inside, realizing I wasn't budging.

"Why don't you do it?" I ask Thermite, trying not to sound like an ass, but genuinely annoyed and wanting an answer, "I've been bandaging him up, giving him some food and water, and watching him. I haven't seen you two do anything with him." I want nothing more to do with the captive.

Somehow, I can feel Frost cringe beside me.

Thermite looked at me, seriously. I didn't regret defending myself, but I felt a new uncomfortable tension, as I wasn't used to Thermite reprimanding me.

"I could say I'm happy you've taken the initiative to take care of him until the F.B.I. gets here, because that's essentially what your job is now, and I was leaving you to it because I saw it was all under control. But clearly I was wrong,"

He continues, with an unchanging stern expression, "I could say I don't have to, because I'm your superior, but you know I don't like to flaunt that around as an excuse for anything. But I could say that, and leave you to accept it and follow my orders anyway,"

I pissed him off. It's clear now. I hear Frost go back inside, quietly.

"I'm gonna go make a call to the F.B.I. to try getting them to get that Russian out of our hands so you can stop complaining about it. Does that satisfy your question?"

I've seen him this way before. It's always caused by someone disobeying orders or arguing with him, and I've just done both. I nod, returning his gaze, but feeling annoyed and defeated.

"Good. I'm gonna hope your attitude is just from the bizarre circumstances of lately, and not because you've decided you're too good to do your job anymore." He goes inside. He went easy on me.

O

O

O

While Jordan was on a call regarding the F.B.I. picking up Glaz, Frost and I were in the bathroom with the filthy Russian, trying to make this as quick as possible. But, unsurprisingly, Glaz wasn't cooperating as well as we would have liked.

Frost had the foresight to make him remove his shirt before we tied his hands in front of him. He had no kind of dog tags on him. We – or rather, Frost – was trying to convince him to strip the rest of his clothes off. She was completely professional and firm. I observed.

But Glaz refused, and he'd jerk away from her when she'd touch him. Thankfully, he wasn't fighting, but he was very defensive and spitting occasional Russian curse words at us.

Frost sighed, "I have to do this same thing with my daughter during bath time!" She looked at the dirty Spetsnaz, annoyance on her face.

"What do you do to get your daughter to cooperate?" I ask, thinking perhaps we could use that precious information and use it on him.

She looked at me, a little amusement in her face, "I offer her icecream…"

I want to laugh, but I hold it in. I guess I didn't consider such an innocent and simple answer. But it did give me an idea.

I look at Glaz, "Take your clothes off," I feel awkwardness hitting me as I say those words to him, but I continue, "Shower real good and we'll get you some food." I had been feeding him occasionally, but only scraps… really only enough to keep him from dying. I barely gave him any water, too. I thought it best to keep him weak, but ultimately, I mostly disregarded his well-being entirely. After all, I had wanted him dead from the beginning.

He's glaring at me from his sitting position on the bathroom floor, his eyes colder than any time before. He looked like a dog warning someone with its eyes that it was going to bite if I made the wrong move. I completely understand why, but I'm not gonna put up with it.

"Either you do what I say, or we force you, and you don't eat or drink for the next two days," Frost looked at me, giving me somewhat a taken-aback look when I told him how long he'd have to wait to eat or drink. I wasn't exaggerating when I said it.

Glaz looks at Frost, refusing to talk to me, "Only you stay," he says to her. She answers, "Can't do that. Get in and get it over with." That's right, Glaz. You can't get rid of me.

"Then I refuse," he utters deeply. His angry, defensive eyes return to mine. This bastard is really stubborn now. I thought for sure he'd take option A.

"Let's just get him in there. He can keep his damn pants on. I'm getting tired of this," I say to Frost. She stares down at Glaz, responding with, "I guess…"

O

O

O

After literally wrestling the Russian man into bathing, getting water practically everywhere in the bathroom, we finally got him dried off and cleaned up well. Except for his pants still being entirely damp, since he had refused to get completely nude.

Since we had removed his bandages, the large, open gash in his throat had begun bleeding again. When I think about it, it really hadn't much opportunity to heal, and since it was very deep, it was easy to make it bleed again. It streaked down his neck, onto his strong collarbone and chest, as he sat Indian-style on the floor with his hands tied back behind the wooden pillar in the center of the cabin. Since I had done most of the bathing work, Frost was on her knees in front of Glaz, applying anti-bacterial gel to his wound with her fingers, like I had done last night. I watch from the kitchen, leaning against the small counter with a coffee in hand.

I was watching for him to struggle as she applied the gel to his bleeding wound. Watching for him to get flustered and antsy like he did under my touch. But he didn't, not even in the slightest. He was rather calm, with his head up for her, his breathing completely in control. What the hell? Seeing it was getting on my nerves.

I guess everything about him got on my nerves. I couldn't see him or think of him without getting irritated. At this point it felt irrational.

But as Frost finished wrapping the fresh, white bandages around his neck and throat, I decided to force myself to calm down and try not to let my anger get to me. There's no reason for me to get angry. And the day is still young. I need a distraction.

Right as Frost joined me in the kitchen, making herself some cheap chamomile tea, Thermite walked down the hallway and made his way to us, smiling.

"Got some exciting news," he starts, sliding his phone into his back pocket before sitting on one of the kitchen table chairs, "They're getting him tomorrow morning. No approximate time, but we better get up early and see our friend off." He turns in his chair to look at Glaz. Glaz is glaring at him, but that's just become his default expression since he's been here.

Thank god. Tomorrow morning he'll be gone. I can get back to my life, and myself. He'll get the C.I.A. treatment as they try to extract information from him. I chuckle lightly.

O

O

O

That night, after Frost and Thermite went to bed early, I stayed up to antagonize the irritating sniper. Ever since Thermite gave us the good news that Glaz is getting taken away tomorrow, I wanted to rub it in the Russian's face.

I sat in front of him, in a chair, looking down at him. For a while, I said nothing. We just looked into each other's eyes with mutual hate.

He looked so different since he was cleaned up. His hair was now soft and a chocolate-brown, opposite of the greasy, dark, blood-stained mess from before. It was messy and just long enough that it nearly covered his eyes. His skin, a little more pale in the face from his recent blood-loss, was perfectly clean of all blood and dirt now, though it was littered with small nicked scars, some bruises, his scabbing stab wounds from the bunker incident, and a few small moles scattered over his body. He was wearing a white t-shirt of mine. It hung off his body slightly loose on him, but I could still see how strong he was built in his arms, shoulders, neck, and chest. I watched that chest rise and fall, following his steady, silent breathing.

I looked back into his eyes. I always liked how the red scar on one of his irises contrasted completely against his pastel blue eye color. I wondered if it was there before I actually met him eye-to-eye. Or if it had been from the crazy homeless gang that had roughed him up. It was even possible that I had done it to him in the midst of our fight in the bunker. But I liked it. It was unique.

I was breathing more heavily, I notice. In the back of my mind, I'm worried I'll miss being able to see his eyes again.

"You're going to your new home tomorrow," I tell him, trying not to sound too excited.

"You will be sad I leave," he said in his deep, but calm voice.

"Why's that?" I ask, dully.

"You have no more toy to play with," he growled.

I don't like the way he put it. I don't consider people "toys".

He continues, "You say you having nothing to wait from home for you. So you are lonely. Always you will be lonely." He's trying to get to me.

"I like being alone. I'm not gonna miss you one bit," I respond, my voice and expression remaining uncaring. I add, "You gonna miss me?"

He scoffs, "I have…" he struggles finding the correct English wording, "I will kill you, Seb." He annunciates my name. It sends a small wave of anger through me. He must have heard Frost or Thermite call me that at some point. Damn it.

I shift in my seat, partially amused that he's talking so big when he's restrained, "Keep barking, Russian mutt." I stood up and went to the kitchen to grab a snack. I returned to my chair, seated in front of him, eating slices of salami freshly cut from the log of meat.

As I chew, I see his glare faltering to look down at the food. His stomach growled.

"If you were obedient, you'd be getting some of this right now," I say casually, reminded him of our earlier struggle to get him to bathe himself.

"I will wash, but not you inside room with me," he responds.

I cut off another piece of meat and leaned forward, elbows on my knees, and continued watching his face, "I wasn't going to leave you alone with Frost," I popped the slice into my mouth, savoring the smoky, sweet flavor. It had cranberries inside.

"I not fight with her," he defended.

I hummed for a minute before swallowing my food, "It's not about fighting her. It's about leaving a woman alone in the bathroom with a stubborn enemy male Spetsnaz with an attitude. She's a tough woman, and I know she could fight you off. But it still doesn't sit right with me to let her deal with you alone." I began slicing another piece of salami with my hunting knife.

"I refuse to act on lust, and force the feelings to another," he said, cynically. I stopped cutting and glared at him, daring him to say anything more about it.

He continued, "You are sick. I wish you rather kill me instead."

"You enjoyed it," I lowly spat back, angrily. It was an awful defense, but I stuck with it for now.

"I tell you to stop!" He shouted.

"Shut up!" I shouted back, not as loud. I waited to hear stirring from the bedrooms in the hallway. It was completely silent. I stared at Glaz, wordless.

"You were hard, the whole time," I whispered.

"It was not of my own will. You touched me, you not would stop when I say!" he continued, quietly.

I sat upright, groaning. He was right, I had been in the wrong, but I was still trying to defend myself to him. I realize I don't need to, and this conversation is pointless. He'll be out of here tomorrow.

Before I can speak again, I hear him quietly say, "Please, give food…" His expression has changed to almost a pleading look. It was an odd and sudden change in attitude. But I haven't fed him well, so it makes sense.

"Why should I?"

"Who come to take me away, they not will like to see you having neglect for me," he wisely responds. He's right, again. He's pretty intelligent.

I finish cutting of a slice of salami, responding, "They're gonna hurt you. They only want me to keep you alive so they can slowly let you die." He said nothing to this, only focusing now on the piece of meat in my fingers.

I offer it to him. It feels like I'm feeding a dog, which is just what he should be recognized as. He leaned forward to take a bite and I pushed it closer between his teeth. Before I could respond, he had lunged forward and clamped his teeth hard on my fingers. I couldn't help but shout, "Fucker!" and slam his head back into the pillar, holding it there as I tried pulling my fingers from his hold. It felt like he'd bite them clean off.

Before I got ready to kick him, he let go. But as soon as he let go, he slipped out from under me and bolted towards the front door. I didn't have enough time to figure out how he got his hands untied, as I followed right behind him and grabbed him. As soon as I grabbed him from behind, he had flipped me over onto my back in the blink of an eye. The fucking Spetsnaz really had exceptional hand-to-hand combat training.

He pinned me the floor, his knee in my gut, and his strong hands holding mine down. The look on his face was so energetic and furious, I almost felt intimidated for once in my life. He pulled out a knife – the knife I had just been using to cut my food – and held it up to my neck at the tip, trying to push it into my throat. I knew he was going to kill me, even as I fought to keep his hand from sinking it into my skin.

Without weakening in the slightest, he looked up to the direction of the hallway. I didn't dare look away from him, as we still struggled to gain control over the other, but I heard running coming towards us. Glaz was up in an instant and darted out the front door that I hadn't yet locked up for the night. Fuck. If it had been locked, he wouldn't have just slipped away from being shot by Thermite.

I scrambled up, getting my bearings, and yelled to Thermite, "Get Frost! Get ready!" I yanked his rifle from his hands, my adrenaline up at its highest, and ran out the door after Glaz, leaving Thermite as my rage fueled me to hunt after the Russian one more time.

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 **More to come.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

* * *

I rushed after him, fueled by blind rage. It was dark, and I could barely see anything, but kept his subtle silhouette in my view. I was catching up. I couldn't stop to shoot or I'd most likely lose him.

We ran through the trees, branches snapping against us, the occasional snow-patches and leaves crunching under our pounding feet. I barely even felt the cold. He was trying to throw me off by weaving through thicker brush and fallen trees, but I was right on his heels. All I could think about was crushing him under my bare hands into a bloody mess.

Finally, what I've been waiting for: he made a wrong move. He stopped to surprise me with a knife attack at my face, but I was ready for it, and grabbed his wrist. He stumbled back and I had the upper hand, trying to force him onto the ground and trying to get an opportunity to pull my gun on him. But he was fighting for his life, both of us locked in a hold like bucks with locked antlers. Neither of us would give up now.

He tried to shove me down, but I countered by shoving him much harder with all of my might. He lost his footing, gripping onto me still, and before I knew it we were falling.

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Both of us were shaken up from the fall, but he was dazed. I quickly got back to my senses and I pounced on him. He was almost able to fight me off, but I pinned him hard against the cold, damp ground and sat on him with all my weight. His eyes were still trying to focus. Both of us were panting heavily. While I had him struggling under my control, I looked up at where we had fallen from. We fell from pretty high off a mostly-vertical cliff. It would be impossible to climb back up from here. I wondered if Thermite and Frost were close behind, and if they'd know where to look for us. I didn't have my radio or any flares, and I couldn't hear anything other than the light wind blowing through the trees, sending a chill up my spine.

I looked around for my gun, but I couldn't see it. I didn't see the knife anywhere either, and I gave him a quick patdown as he was under me. It didn't matter right now though, I was content as long as I didn't see any weapons in Glaz's reach somewhere.

I continued catching up on my breath, feeling struggles under me.

I looked down at his pale eyes darkened by the night. His mouth was wide, panting along with me.

"Kill me," he says, assertively.

"Is that what you want?" I breathe out. He nods.

"Then I won't. I'm not being nice to you anymore." I close my eyes, feeling exhausted as my pulse slowly relaxes back to normal.

"Then what?" he asks.

I don't know.

"I'm taking you back," I state.

Carefully, but quickly, I force him onto his stomach and push his hands together. I reach for my zip-ties… but I have none on me. I grunt in irritation.

I continue to pin him down to the ground, holding the side of his face into the frozen, wet dirt.

"We were going home soon!" I shout at him, "You've done nothing but ruin my life since I met you…" I growl.

The temptation to kill him right here, right now, is eager on my fingertips. I'm trying to convince myself to do it, but trying to talk myself out of it. The C.I.A. want him alive. Part of me wants him alive. I'm shaking.

"We make deal…" he nearly whispers.

"No. Just, shut up. I don't want to hear you right now," I spit out at him.

He continues, as if I had said nothing, "Let me free, for—"

I push one of his arms up to his upper back hard, making his face twist in pain and a startled yelp escape him. I watch him, daring him to speak again.

He does, after a moment.

"For sex," he finished, his arm still in agony as I kept it wrenched firmly behind him.

His offer infuriates me more. I carefully give a hard punch to his head, knocking him out in one blow.

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I sat against a large-trunked tree and watched him in the dark, waiting for him to wake up. He was curled up on his side, his hands bound tight behind his back with his own belt. He had demanded I kill him, then asked me to spare his life. I didn't want to give into his wishes, so I was at a loss. I felt like I should kill him, right now, while he's unconscious. Part of me worried the C.I.A. wouldn't be satisfied with his death, and would make us stay and bring them a live Russian soldier, if there were any left. After all, that's the only reason they wanted this one.

I was pretty sure at this point Thermite and Frost wouldn't find me down here. But I was confident I could find my way back once the sun was out.

Glaz woke up, curling up a little more tightly. I'm sure his head was throbbing.

"Why I am alive…?" his voice is weak and groggy.

"You're my key home," I answered, dully.

He rolled onto his back as much as he could without crushing his hands, "You are thinking of my deal?"

I don't bother answering.

He's looking at me now. I stare into his eyes, still too frustrated to appreciate his eyes like I have before.

"Has been long time since you have blowjob, yes?" he says, his voice soft and dark. I can't tell if he's being serious.

I chuckle, "Even if I accepted 'favors' from you, you know damn well I'm not letting you go free. Give up," I close my eyes and lay my head back against the tree, arms crossed. I'm fucking cold. Bet he's even worse, being in a thin t-shirt.

Truthfully, he's got my thoughts wandering and I'd love to take him up on his offer. But I won't.

He's quiet for a while, no longer looking at me. I think of making a small fire, but I know the sun should start coming up soon. At least, I hope so. My patience is thin.

He tries over and over to pull his wrists free from the belt, but to no avail. He's so cold that, even in the dark, I can see his body shivering.

"Cold?" I tease him pettily.

He doesn't respond. We sit in silence for a while.

But as the night goes on, I can hear him shivering now. I sighed and went up to him. I want him to stay alive. I knelt down and grabbed him from under his bound arms, and pulled him towards the large dead tree I was sitting at. It was big enough for both of us to sit back against, so I propped him up against it before taking my seat right next to him. He felt like ice.

I felt him shake violently next to me, sniffling like crazy. His head hung down.

I felt uncomfortable. He was so stiff and frozen next to me. I was cold, but had a heavy winter coat on. There's definitely a danger here, leaving him in the cold like this.

Maybe it was because I still hadn't slept yet, and I was still banged up from the fall, but I ended up putting my thick coat over the front of him as he was leaned back against the thick tree.

I still had a thick, long-sleeved shirt on, with a t-shirt underneath, so I wasn't too bad off. But I wished the wind would let up, at least…

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I woke up to the brightness of a late-morning sky.

Panicked that I had let myself fall asleep, I looked over at the Russian next to me. His eyes met mine.

"Shit," I whispered, calming down now. I rubbed my face to rid myself of my grogginess before I stood up and away from the tree.

The sun was bright and warm, though the air was still very cold. There wasn't any wind.

I sighed heavily before swiping my coat back from the Russian and helping him to his feet, "Alright, let's head back,"

He was still looking at me. I wasn't sure why. I tried to ignore it, and wrapped my coat around his shoulders before I started leading him back to the cabin. We would have to take a round-about way to get around the cliff.

Only a few steps in, I found my knife that he had stolen and wielded against me. I put it in my belt and continued walking.

We had been walking for a little bit. I was exhausted as we walked through the dead trees and bushes and rocks. I couldn't wait for all of this to be over with.

I glanced to the side to look at him, my hand still holding onto his bound arm under my coat. He looks back at me again without saying a word. The side of his face has pieces of dirt and some muddy smears over it. I like how he looks this way.

"What's up with you?" I ask, not realizing how dumb of a question it was until after it had been said aloud.

"You were talking in sleep," he answers.

"So what?"

He actually gave a small chuckle before looking back up into my eyes.

"You say things about me," he replied with an odd smile.

I felt a little weird somehow. I couldn't have said anything that really mattered. Not in my sleep. But now I was curious.

"What did I say?"

"'Kiss me, Glaz…'" he supposedly quoted me.

"Heh, you were hearing things," I look back down, carefully treading through a rocky patch of earth.

"Why is hard to believe? You kiss me before… you touch me before. It is what you said,"

He had a point. Fuck.

I still can't believe I had done that to him, that I even fantasized about him. Yet, even now, I still can admit that I enjoyed how he felt, and that he melted when I touched his sensitive throat. But I never should have taken advantage like that.

I'm looking back into his eyes, those icy blue eyes that make me feel funny. I would miss them when he was taken away.

"Listen," I start, feeling like I needed to just get it out, "I don't know why that happened. It wasn't like me. I don't even –"

"I enjoy it," he interrupted. We stopped walking when I turned to face him, confused.

"Excuse me?"

"You touch my neck with your fingers, lips… tongue…" he was blushing, but not looking bashful at all about what he was admitting to me, "It has been long time since I was touched without harm,"

My mouth was open to respond, but I couldn't formulate any words. I was apologizing for something I considered horrible, but now he says he liked it? Wait a second…

"But you cried," I remind him with shock in my words.

"I was very angry. I not want to accept it was you to make me feel this way," Now he looked troubled.

I remember him resisting me, despite how much I pushed him… I mean, I forced him to take my kisses and my touches…

I felt despicable.

I looked down at the ground again, trying to make sense of this entire bizarre experience I've had involving this man, from day 1.

"You are rough," He blurts out, breaking me from my thoughts. I look back up at him.

I didn't know how to respond to that one, either. I wanted to say 'sorry'.

His face is red. It's still cold, but he's definitely blushing a lot.

"I want to feel it again since then," he finally says.

I lick my lips and am overwhelmed by my thoughts and feelings. My stomach was tight with some kind of nervousness, or maybe even excitement. I don't know if it was a good or bad feeling.

We both looked at each other as a thick air of awkwardness and anxiousness enveloped us.

He must be fucking with me. I shake my head and give his arm a gentle tug so we can continue finding our way back to my base.

But he didn't move. So I stopped again and faced him.

His eyes wouldn't break from mine. Now mine were locked onto his.

I wanted so very badly to kiss him right then and there. Regardless if he was messing with me or not. But…

The Russian stepped towards me, closing the already small distance between us. He was just a little shorter than me, but not much. I felt hypnotized by his bright eyes.

I grabbed onto his waist with one nervous hand and stepped closer to plant a kiss on his lips.

It was mutual. He had leant into me, our chests touching, and our lips perfectly and warmly pressed together. Both of my hands slipped around his sides and around him, making my coat fall off of him onto the ground. I held him close to me.

It felt so warm and exciting, my worries couldn't even plague me in this moment. It was blissful.

My tongue entered his hot mouth, as his lips had parted slightly to invite me in. And his entered mine. I could taste and feel the scabbed wound on his lower lip that I had purposely bitten before back in the cabin. I gave it a soft lick in a subtle, loving attempt to redeem myself for hurting it before.

This kiss wasn't as rough and desperate like before, when it was just me trying to get off. This time felt so much more fulfilling and satisfying. We were doing this right. I wasn't taking advantage of him.

After rubbing my hands over his back, sides, hips, and slipping my curious hands over his firm ass a couple of times, we broke our kiss. We stood there for what felt like a long time, still chest-to-chest, with our foreheads pressed together and our noses rubbing. We were breathing a little harder and quicker against each other's lips. My heart was racing and my face was flushed. I almost felt like I was going to faint.

I stepped away from him after one more look at his handsome eyes, then turned away and wiped my lips with my hand. Again, reality was creeping back in, and I couldn't help but mumble a French curse when I remembered we had to go back to the cabin to send him away.

I could admit it to myself now: I didn't want him to go away. There wasn't any logic to this, where these feelings were coming from. Before, I just blamed it on lust. I was horny and I haven't been laid in a long time. He was there and vulnerable. But it was more than that, and we just proved it. At least, to me, it was something.

"I not know why I like you, Buck," he says to me, implying he's being tortured by the same worries.

He continues, "It feels good. Before, it feel good too, but I not was happy it was from because of you. I want you more. Maybe because I am lonely. So are you,"

I hate how accurate his words are. He's completely right.

Hell, I've never even been in a relationship in my citizen life that made me feel like this. How was this even happening? It was strangely refreshing, but frustrating at the same time.

"I still can't let you go…" I tried to sound assertive, but I felt remorseful to say it.

"I know," he simply answers in his calm, deep voice.

Part of me thought he was just playing with me in an effort to convince me to let him free. But that isn't the case. He seems to have completely submitted to his situation, and he looks defeated.

Those dangerous, cold sniper eyes now resembled the eyes of a sad dog. I hoped I didn't look that pathetic. But I felt like it.

"There's something really wrong with us," I say somewhat jokingly, trying to make the mood a little lighter.

"Maybe in different world, where we not are at war, it could be something more," he somberly replied, "It not would be wrong then,"

I sighed again and ran my fingers through my pale-brown hair. I started pacing.

"I know you having to return me. Your team is worrying. We should leave now,"

He's right. He's right…

I growl and stop to look at him, "There are no other Russians in this area?"

"To my knowledge, no. If there was more I would not tell you where they hide,"

I already knew the answer. I was just buying time; I was at a loss.

"Do you and friends getting to return home from taking me in to be interrogated?"

My jaw clenches.

"It's not for sure… but it's likely. Especially since, to our knowledge, you're the last one left alive… you're very valuable to the C.I.A."

"I am sad for my comrades who not could live to return to family. I know many of them. They were good men, and women. It always will hurt,"

I feel a guilt that, as a special operative, I should never feel. I never have until now.

He continues, "My heart and my life always are with Russia and my comrades. But, as human, I consider the pain of you and the comrades of yours. I hope fighting ends now, so all you can return safely to home."

I went back up close to him and hugged him around his arms. They're still tied at the wrists behind his back. I nuzzle the side of his head and I'm starting to feel pissed at how complicated all of this is.

"If we know each other from outside of war," the cold Russian goes on, his voice weakening, "I would wanting this for you, to be safe and your friends to be alive."

I swallow hard. I kiss his neck before saying into his ear, "None of this makes any sense, why you'd even feel this way. I was just horny before and I found you unexplainably attractive. I haven't been nice to you at all,"

I pull away just enough to look into his eyes, "What's your excuse, Glaz?"

"Call me Timur…"

"Tell me, Timur. At this point, there's no use to play with my emotions like this. You know damn well I'm not letting you go. What is it?"

"There not is any excuse," he responds, sounding frustrated as well.

"You touch and kissing me, it is very," he struggles to keep speaking English, "Is really good feeling inside of me. I also was horny, as you say. I know little about you, so I only can say it is how you feel that brings me comfort,"

Before I can think of something to retort, he adds, "Right now, I am enjoy your company. We are outside of war in this moments. You embrace me and kiss and touch. We are human, not enemy, for now. I am scared that I am last alive of my men. Nothing is left for me. Even if I am free from you,"

I sympathize with him. Sometimes I forget how empty my life really is at home, where I live alone. I tell myself it's how I prefer to live, but the truth I struggle to believe is that I am really lonely and unfulfilled.

He leans against me, prompting me to hug him tight against me again. We nuzzle.

"Is clear to me, from knowing I have nothing left. Every small thing to bring me any comfort is accepted with great gratitude. You are all that is what I have in the remaining of my time. You are everything."

"I've wanted you dead from day 1…" I begin, a bitterness in my voice. As my arms are around him, my fingers start fiddling at the belt that's binding his wrists. I know it's a stupid idea, I know it is, but I'm taking the chance. I'm more than confident I will win if he tries to fight or run.

I can feel him shaking against me.

"Even now, I… I don't want to kill you, but I'm so god damned pissed. Every chance I've had to get rid of you has gone completely wrong,"

"You will be rid of me soon," He interrupts.

"I know, but I'm not happy about it!" I nearly shout into his ear.

While working on removing the belt that's binding his wrists, I continue, "All of this is fucked up. I still have a hatred for you, Glaz—Timur, I mean. I really do. By the way, don't think I'm letting my guard down after your hands are untied,"

He gives a soft kiss against my neck, "You not having to remove it. There is nowhere I can run. I am too cold, too tired for fight,"

I lean into his small kiss, leaving my own little kiss on his slightly fuzzy jaw. The belt falls to the ground, his hands now freed.

His numb hands nervously find my body, coming to rest on my sides. I get a chill.

I keep myself aware of the position of his hands, in case this turns sour and he goes for my knife… but at this point, I'm barely worried about it.

We hold each other like this for another long while, listening to each other breathe. Feeling each other breathe.

I start rubbing his arms to warm him, ignoring my own coldness. We're forehead-to-forehead again, eyes closed, just… staying in the moment. The area is so deserted and thick of dead trees that the world around us is serenely quiet. Even though it's chilly, the sky is so blue and the sun's light that breaks through the crooked tree branches feels warm.

He breaks the silence with almost a whisper, "Your friends still are looking for you,"

"I know," I reply, not wanting to think about anything else right now. I don't want to go anywhere. I don't want him to go away.

Timur puts his hands up to my neck, his hands so careful and nervous, his fingers icy cold like his crystal-blue eyes. He kisses me again. I'm still rubbing at his arms to warm him as I lovingly return the kiss. It's sweet and sensual.

Only seconds into the kiss, our heads whip over to the sound of a stick breaking only several yards from us. Standing there was Frost, with so much shock in her face that I thought she'd have a heart-attack. Glaz and I were frozen in place, his hands over my chest and my hands holding onto his arms.

She caught us kissing.

I didn't know what to say or do. Neither did she. I hoped to god Thermite wasn't with her, or he'd probably shoot me and Glaz both where we stand.

But Tina is there, looking at us, horrified.

She's my best friend. I've just lost my best friend.

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 **The drama will continue soon.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 6:**

I rushed after him, fueled by blind rage. It was dark, and I could barely see anything, but kept his subtle silhouette in my view. I was catching up. I couldn't stop to shoot or I'd most likely lose him.

We ran through the trees, branches snapping against us, the snow and leaves crunching under our pounding feet. I barely even felt the cold. He was trying to throw me off by weaving through thicker brush and fallen trees, but I was right on his heels. All I could think about was crushing him under my bare hands into a bloody mess.

Finally, what I've been waiting for: he made a wrong move. He stopped to surprise me with a knife attack at my face, but I was ready for it, and grabbed his wrist. He stumbled back and I had the upper hand, trying to force him onto the ground and trying to get an opportunity to pull my gun on him. But he was fighting for his life, both of us locked in a hold like bucks with locked antlers. Neither of us would give up now.

He tried to shove me down, but I countered by shoving him much harder with all of my might. He lost his footing, gripping onto me still, and before I knew it we were falling.

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Both of us were shaken up from the fall, but he was dazed. I quickly got back to my senses and I pounced on him. He was almost able to fight me off, but I pinned him hard against the cold, damp ground and sat on him with all my weight. His eyes were still trying to focus. Both of us were panting heavily. While I had him struggling under my control, I looked up at where we had fallen. We fell from pretty high off a mostly-vertical cliff. It would be impossible to climb back up from here. I wondered if Thermite and Frost were close behind, and if they'd know where to look for us. I didn't have my radio or any flares, and I couldn't hear anything other than the light wind blowing through the trees, sending a chill up my spine.

I looked around for my gun, but I couldn't see it. I didn't see the knife anywhere either, and I gave him a quick patdown as he was under me. It didn't matter right now though, I was content as long as I didn't see any weapons in Glaz's reach somewhere.

I continued catching up on my breath, feeling struggles under me.

I looked down at his pale eyes darkened by the night. His mouth was wide, panting along with me.

"Kill me," he says, assertively.

"Is that what you want?" I breathe out. He nods.

"Then I won't. I'm not being nice to you anymore." I close my eyes, feeling exhausted as my pulse slowly relaxes back to normal.

"Then what?" he asks.

I don't know.

"I'm taking you back," I state.

Carefully, but quickly, I force him onto his stomach and push his hands together. I reach for my zip-ties… but I have none on me. I grunt in irritation.

I continue hold him down to the ground, holding the side of his face into the frozen, wet dirt.

"We were going home soon!" I shout at him, "You've done nothing but ruin my life since I met you…" I growl.

The temptation to kill him right here, right now, is eager on my fingertips. I'm trying to convince myself to do it, but trying to talk myself out of it. The C.I.A. want him alive. Part of me wants him alive. I'm shaking.

"We make deal…" he nearly whispers.

"No. Just, shut up. I don't want to hear you right now," I spit out at him.

He continues, as if I had said nothing, "Let me free, for—"

I twist one of his arms behind him hard, making his face twist in pain and a startled yelp escape him. I watch him, daring him to speak again.

He does, after a moment.

"For sex," he finished, his arm still in agony.

His offer infuriates me more. I carefully give a hard punch to his head, knocking him out in one blow.

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I sat against a large-trunked tree and watched him in the dark, waiting for him to wake up. He was curled up on his side, his hands bound painfully tight behind his back with his own belt. He had demanded I kill him, then asked me to spare his life. I didn't want to give into his wishes, so I was at a loss. I felt like I should kill him, right now, while he's unconscious. Part of me worried the C.I.A. wouldn't be satisfied with his death, and would make us stay and bring them a live Russian soldier, if there were any left. After all, that's the only reason they wanted this one.

I was pretty sure at this point Thermite and Frost wouldn't find me down here. But I was confident I could find my way back once the sun was out.

Glaz woke up, curling up a little more tightly. I'm sure his head was throbbing.

"Why I am alive…?" his voice weak and groggy.

"You're my key home," I answered, dully.

He rolled onto his back as much as he could without crushing his hands, "You are thinking of my deal?"

I don't bother answering.

He's looking at me now. I stare into his eyes, still too frustrated to appreciate his eyes like I have before.

"Has been a long time since you have blowjob, yes?" he says, his voice soft and dark. I can't tell if he's being serious.

I chuckle, "Even if I accepted 'favors' from you, you know damn well I'm not letting you go free. Give up," I close my eyes and lay my head back against the tree, arms crossed. I'm fucking cold. Bet he's even worse, being in a thin t-shirt.

He's quiet for a while, no longer looking at me. I think of making a small fire, but I know the sun should start coming up soon. At least, I hope so. My patience is thin.

He tries over and over to pull his wrists free from the belt, but to no avail. He's so cold that, even in the dark, I can see his body shivering.

"Cold?" I tease him pettily.

He doesn't respond. We sit in silence for a while.

But as the night goes on, I can hear him shivering now. I sighed and went up to him. I want him to stay alive. I knelt down and grabbed him from under his bound arms, and pulled him towards the large dead tree I was sitting at. It was big enough for both of us to sit back against, so I propped him up against it before taking my seat right next to him. He felt like ice.

I felt him shake violently next to me, sniffling like crazy. His head hung down.

I felt uncomfortable. He was so stiff and frozen next to me. I was cold, but had a heavy winter coat on. There's definitely a danger here, leaving him in the cold like this.

Maybe it was because I still hadn't slept yet, and I was still banged up from the fall, but I ended up putting my thick coat over the front of him as he was leaned back against the thick tree.

I still had a thick, long-sleeved shirt on, with a t-shirt underneath, so I wasn't too bad off. But I wished the wind would let up, at least…

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I woke up to the brightness of a late-morning sky.

Panicked that I had let myself fall asleep, I looked over at the Russian next to me. His eyes met mine.

"Shit," I whispered, calming down now. I rubbed my face to rid myself of my grogginess before I stood up and away from the tree.

The sun was bright and warm, though the air was still very cold. There wasn't any wind.

I sighed heavily before swiping my coat back from the Russian and helping him to his feet, "Alright, let's head back,"

He was still looking at me. I wasn't sure why. I tried to ignore it, and wrapped my coat around his shoulders before I started leading him back to the cabin. We would have to take a round-about way to get around the cliff.

Only a few steps in, I found my knife that he had stolen and wielded against me. I put it in my belt and continued walking.

We had been walking for a little bit. I was exhausted as we walked through the dead trees and bushes and rocks. I couldn't wait for all of this to be over with.

I glanced to the side to look at him, my hand still holding onto his bound arm under my coat. He looks back at me again without saying a word. The side of his face has pieces of dirt and some muddy smears over it. I like how he looks this way.

"What's up with you?" I ask, not realizing how dumb of a question it was until after it had been said aloud.

"You were talking in sleep," he answers.

"So what?"

He actually gave a small chuckle before looking back up into my eyes.

"You say things about me," he replied with an odd smile.

I felt a little weird somehow. I couldn't have said anything that really mattered. Not in my sleep. But now I was curious.

"What did I say?"

"'Kiss me, Glaz…'" he supposedly quoted me.

"Heh, you were hearing things," I look back down, carefully treading through a rocky patch of earth.

"Why is hard to believe? You kiss me before… you touch me before. It is what you said,"

He had a point. Fuck.

I still can't believe I had done that to him, that I even fantasized about him. Yet, even now, I still can admit that I enjoyed how he felt, and that he melted when I touched his sensitive throat. But I never should have taken advantage like that.

I'm looking back into his eyes, those icy blue eyes that make me feel funny. I would miss them when he was taken away.

"Listen," I start, feeling like I needed to just get it out, "I don't know why that happened. It wasn't like me. I don't even –"

"I enjoy it," he interrupted. We stopped walking when I turned to face him, confused.

"Excuse me?"

"You touch my neck with your fingers, lips… tongue…" he was blushing, but not looking bashful at all about what he was admitting to me, "It has been long time since I was touched without harm,"

My mouth was open to respond, but I couldn't formulate any words. I was apologizing for something I considered horrible, but now he says he liked it? Wait a second…

"But you cried," I remind him with shock in my words.

"I was very angry. I not want to accept it was you to make me feel this way," Now he looked troubled.

I remember him resisting me, despite how much I pushed him… I mean, I forced him to take my kisses and my touches…

I felt despicable.

I looked down at the ground again, trying to make sense of this entire bizarre experience I've had involving this man, from day 1.

"You are rough," He blurts out, breaking me from my thoughts. I look back up at him.

I didn't know how to respond to that one, either. I wanted to say 'sorry'.

His face is red. It's still cold, but he's definitely blushing a lot.

"I want to feel it again since then," he finally says.

I lick my lips and am overwhelmed by my thoughts and feelings. My stomach was tight with some kind of nervousness, or maybe even excitement. I don't know if it was a good or bad feeling.

We both looked at each other as a thick air of awkwardness and anxiousness enveloped us.

He must be fucking with me. I shake my head and give his arm a gentle tug so we can continue finding our way back to my base.

But he didn't move. So I stopped again and faced him.

His eyes wouldn't break from mine. Now mine were locked onto his.

I wanted so very badly to kiss him right then and there. Regardless if he was messing with me or not. But…

The Russian stepped towards me, closing the already small distance between us. He was just a little shorter than me, but not much. I felt hypnotized by his bright eyes.

I grabbed onto his waist with one nervous hand and stepped closer to plant a kiss on his lips.

It was mutual. He had leant into me, our chests touching, and our lips perfectly and warmly pressed together. Both of my hands slipped around his sides and around him, making my coat fall off of him onto the ground. I held him close to me.

It felt so warm and exciting, my worries couldn't even plague me in this moment. It was blissful.

My tongue entered his hot mouth, as his lips had parted slightly to invite me in. And his entered mine. I could taste and feel the scabbed wound on his lower lip that I had purposely bitten before back in the cabin. I gave it a soft lick in a subtle, loving attempt to redeem myself for hurting it before.

This kiss wasn't as rough and desperate like before, when it was just me trying to get off. This time felt so much more fulfilling and satisfying. We were doing this right. I wasn't taking advantage of him.

After rubbing my hands over his back, sides, hips, and slipping my curious hands over his firm ass a couple of times, we broke our kiss. We stood there for what felt like a long time, still chest-to-chest, with our foreheads pressed together and our noses rubbing. We were breathing a little harder and quicker against each other's lips. My heart was racing and my face was flushed. I almost felt like I was going to faint.

I stepped away from him after one more look at his handsome eyes, then turned away and wiped my lips with my hand. Again, reality was creeping back in, and I couldn't help but mumble a French curse when I remembered we had to go back to the cabin to send him away.

I could admit it to myself now: I didn't want him to go away. There wasn't any logic to this, where these feelings were coming from. Before, I just blamed it on lust. I was horny and I haven't been laid in a long time. He was there and vulnerable. But it was more than that, and we just proved it. At least, to me, it was something.

"I not know why I like you, Buck," he says to me, implying he's being tortured by the same worries.

He continues, "It feels good. Before, it feel good too, but I not was happy it was from because of you. I want you more. Maybe because I am lonely. So are you,"

I hate how accurate his words are. He's completely right.

Hell, I've never even been in a relationship in my citizen life that made me feel like this. How was this even happening? It was strangely refreshing, but frustrating at the same time.

"I still can't let you go…" I tried to sound assertive, but I felt remorseful to say it.

"I know," he simply answers in his calm, deep voice.

Part of me thought he was just playing with me in an effort to convince me to let him free. But that isn't the case. He seems to have completely submitted to his situation, and he looks defeated.

Those dangerous, cold sniper eyes now resembled the eyes of a sad dog. I hoped I didn't look that pathetic. But I felt like it.

"There's something really wrong with us," I say somewhat jokingly, trying to make the mood a little lighter.

"Maybe in different world, where we not are at war, it could be something more," he somberly replied, "It not would be wrong then,"

I sighed again and ran my fingers through my pale-brown hair. I started pacing.

"I know you having to return me. Your team is worrying. We should leave now,"

He's right. He's right…

I growl and stop to look at him, "There are no other Russians in this area?"

"To my knowledge, no. If there was more I would not tell you where they hide,"

I already knew the answer. I was just buying time; I was at a loss.

"Do you and friends getting to return home from taking me in to be interrogated?"

My jaw clenches.

"It's not for sure… but it's likely. Especially since, to our knowledge, you're the last one left alive… you're very valuable to the C.I.A."

"I am sad for my comrades who not could live to return to family. I know many of them. They were good men, and women. It always will hurt,"

I feel a guilt that, as a special operative, I should never feel. I never have until now.

He continues, "My heart and my life always are with Russia and my comrades. But, as human, I consider the pain of you and the comrades of yours. I hope fighting ends now, so all you can return safely to home."

I went back up close to him and hugged him around his arms. They're still tied at the wrists behind his back. I nuzzle the side of his head and I'm starting to feel pissed at how complicated all of this is.

"If we know each other from outside of war," the cold Russian goes on, his voice weakening, "I would wanting this for you, to be safe and your friends to be alive."

I swallow hard. I kiss his neck before saying into his ear, "None of this makes any sense, why you'd even feel this way. I was just horny before and I found you unexplainably attractive. I haven't been nice to you at all,"

I pull away just enough to look into his eyes, "What's your excuse, Glaz?"

"Call me Timur…"

"Tell me, Timur. At this point, there's no use to play with my emotions like this. You know damn well I'm not letting you go. What is it?"

"There not is any excuse," he responds, sounding frustrated as well.

"You touch and kissing me, it is very," he struggles to keep speaking English, "Is really good feeling inside of me. I also was horny, as you say. I know little about you, so I only can say it is how you feel that brings me comfort,"

Before I can think of something to retort, he adds, "Right now, I am enjoy your company. We are outside of war in this moments. You embrace me and kiss and touch. We are human, not enemy, for now. I am scared that I am last alive of my men. Nothing is left for me. Even if I am free from you,"

I sympathize with him. Sometimes I forget how empty my life really is at home, where I live alone. I tell myself it's how I prefer to live, but the truth I struggle to believe is that I am really lonely and unfulfilled.

He leans against me, prompting me to hug him tight against me again. We nuzzle.

"It is clear to me, from knowing I have nothing left. Every small thing to bring me any comfort is accepted with great gratitude. You are all that is what I have in the remaining of my time. You are everything."

"I've wanted you dead from day 1…" I begin, a bitterness in my voice. As my arms are around him, my fingers start fiddling at the belt that's binding his wrists. I know it's a stupid idea, I know it is, but I'm taking the chance. I'm more than confident I will win if he tries to fight or run.

I can feel him shaking against me.

"Even now, I… I don't want to kill you, but I'm so god damned pissed. Every chance I've had to get rid of you has gone completely wrong,"

"You will be rid of me soon," He interrupts.

"I know, but I'm not happy about it!" I nearly shout into his ear.

While working on removing the belt that's binding his wrists, I continue, "All of this is fucked up. I still have a hatred for you, Glaz—Timur, I mean. I really do. By the way, don't think I'm letting my guard down after your hands are untied,"

He gives a soft kiss against my neck, "You not having to remove it. There is nowhere I can run. I am too cold, too tired for fight,"

I lean into his small kiss, leaving my own little kiss on his slightly fuzzy jaw. The belt falls to the ground, his hands now freed.

His hands nervously find my body, his hands coming to rest on my sides. I get a chill.

I keep myself aware of the position of his hands, in case this turns sour and he goes for my knife… but at this point, I'm barely worried about it.

We hold each other like this for another long while, listening to each other breathe. Feeling each other breathe.

I start rubbing his arms to warm him, ignoring my own coldness. We're forehead-to-forehead again, eyes closed, just… staying in the moment. The area is so deserted and thick of dead trees that the world around us is serenely quiet. Even though it's chilly, the sky is so blue and the sun's light that breaks through the crooked tree branches feels arm.

He breaks the silence with almost a whisper, "Your friends still are looking for you,"

"I know," I reply, not wanting to think about anything else right now. I don't want to go anywhere. I don't want him to go away.

Timur puts his hands up to my neck, his hands so careful and nervous, his fingers icy cold like his crystal-blue eyes. He kisses me again. I'm still rubbing at his arms to warm him as I lovingly return the kiss. It's sweet and sensual. Feeling like this makes me stop trying to apply any logic to whatever we have between us now.

After we pull away, I look around the area. The weather, although cold, is really comforting to me. The trees are mostly bare with only a few spare fall-themed leaves and it's beautiful. I feel an overwhelming sense of romance about everything within this moment. I look back at the Russian who has never looked away from me.

I hand him my coat again, letting him put it on instead of leaving it simply draped over his shoulders. He hesitates but he wears it. He knows what's coming next and he's silently looking at the ground off to the side.

"I'm sorry," I mutter as I pick up the belt off the frosty ground. I still have to take him back. I bite my lip every time I think about it, as the thought continues to plague me with frustration.

"Seb, I know you won't allow, but… I rather would be dead to not be torture to betray my country," the Russian grimly says to me, his gaze looking back at me with a firm seriousness.

Before I could argue, I hear Frost a short distance away from a sparse tree-line. We both turn our heads to look at her as she runs towards us. I swallow hard.

Panting lightly, the petite woman says, "I'm glad you're okay! You're okay, right?"

"Yeah," I nod. She smiles at me.

I see our Texan squad leader running up just a ways behind her.

"Buck!" Thermite begins once he stops next to Tina, "Was starting to think the wolves got you!" I don't respond or even look at him. He looks over the Russian captive before walking up to him and turning him around so he's facing away from him. I grit my teeth as I watch Thermite pull out zip-ties and tighten them around Timur's wrists to secure them behind his back.

"Alright guys, let's head back. I'm proud of you, Buck," the Texan pats me on the arm before grabbing Glaz's arm and starting our small trek back to the cabin.

Again, I don't respond.

As Thermite leads the way, I notice Frost looking at me as if she realizes something is wrong with me. I break away from her stare after a moment and follow behind the American and our Spetsnaz prisoner.

There's nothing I can say to either one of them.


End file.
